


Your Friendly Neighborhood Spiderman

by lithiumclouds



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Bonding, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, Light Angst, M/M, Magical Realism, Pining, Social Anxiety, Spiderman AU, Witch Kozume Kenma, vaguely dnd inspired
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 17:00:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20312929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lithiumclouds/pseuds/lithiumclouds
Summary: There's something off about Karasuno's little middle blocker.What was so unusual about him? The way his hair ruffled and flickered like fire? His midair posture that made him look like the tiniest bird in a murder of crows? It’s a million things and one, and Kozume Kenma is about to get to the bottom of it.(a spiderman au featuring witches and magic)





	Your Friendly Neighborhood Spiderman

There’s something off about Karasuno’s little middle blocker.

That’s what Kenma tells Kuroo after their third game has ended at Karasuno. It's an underlying, gut feeling, which bothers him even more.

His freak quick attack? His stamina? His disposition? No, that wasn’t it.

“About chibi-chan?” Kuroo says absentmindedly, wiping his face off with a towel. “Isn’t it just his fanatic love for volleyball?”

“That’s probably not it,” Kenma admits. 

He feels Kuroo’s gaze on him, careful. “You don’t think he’s… ?” his voice trails off, his unspoken sentence hanging in the air.

“No. He’s not like me.” Kenma glances over his shoulder, back at Shouyou. “I would probably be able to tell if that were the case,” he says.

Shouyou is already back at the other side of the court, calling for yet another game. What’s so unusual about him? The way his hair ruffles and flickers like fire? The way he carries himself? His midair posture that makes him look like the tiniest bird in a murder of crows? It’s a million things and one, edging into an uncanny valley but only just so. Kenma’s lungs are burning and he’s all sweaty, but the prospect of playing him again in all his unpredictable glory makes him excited. 

“Well, I guess you can only figure it out or forget about it,” Kuroo says, standing up. “Now c’mon, we’re playing one more game.”

Reluctantly, Kenma takes a big sip of water and gets up.

This third round Nekoma burns through straight sets, once again. It’s easy to evaluate or force openings, holes in their defense, prepare themselves to dig every single ball, and Kenma leaves Karasuno without a single loss under his belt and the sun at his back.

For now. 

* * *

It’s almost half a week later, and Kenma is making his way home from the train station after volleyball practice. The streets are lined with shops, ranging from large retailers such as Uniglow to family-run businesses. The swell and ebb of the crowd makes him anxious, a quiet burn in his heart. Usually he’s with Kuroo, but today he’s at home sick.

He’s taken this route many times before. He can manage, he figures to himself, walking down the street. The sun is nearly set, blanketing Tokyo in a gradual darkness. The neon lights of Tokyo have already cast their atmospheric glow onto Tokyo’s nightlife.

Blunt force hits him out of nowhere, sending him stumbling backwards. His vision takes a dramatic swerve, and his eyes flit to the cooling sky. He’s been knocked over, he realizes, as his bag is ripped from his shoulder.

_Ah—_

He hits the ground hard, disoriented, and he can hear shouting like it’s through water. On instinct, he feels the pull of the roots at his fingertips, and grass shoots through the cracks in the sidewalk. Grass isn’t enough to hold two grown men down, though, and they start dashing down the street, Kenma’s bag slung over one’s shoulder.

There’s one upstanding bystander who intercepts them, however. He’s yelling at them, and their break in pace allows Kenma to get up and run after them. His palms are stinging, but more importantly he feels a burn in his cheeks and ears as everyone’s gaze becomes fixated on him. They part out of his way as he makes his approach.

His gaming console is in his bag, and he really doesn’t want to see it go.

He grabs his bag, pulling on it, but the strap is still caught on one guy’s shoulder, and he whirls around and shoves Kenma back. He stumbles, onto the street in the midst of incoming traffic.

Kenma’s fingers spark, but it’s a spell that only serves to let him see everything in slow motion. He’s still moving at the same, slow speed. His momentum is too great for him to cull it, and he’s right in the path of an oncoming car. The bystander, a middle-aged man, has a look of panic frozen on his face. One of the men hasn’t even realized that Kenma is on the road.

Everything happens at once.

Kenma sees a white, web-like substance stick itself to his bag strap, ripping it out of the thief’s grip. Then, he feels something stick itself onto his back.

_Oh, god no—_

He’s forcefully dragged into the air, just as his spell wears off and everything resumes at regular speed. The air is quite literally ripped from his lungs, and his heart is trying its best to pound itself out of his ribcage.

He’s ten, twenty metres into the air, and he's starting to feel dizzy when a strong arm wraps around his waist. There’s someone _in the air,_ and he’s wearing a strange red and blue suit, but that’s not the problem when he’s _so high up and he’s going to fall—_

Instinctively, Kenma clings onto the guy like a lifeline just as his saviour shoots another web-like substance onto a building and swings back onto the sidewalk. He hits the thieves feet-first, knocking the wind out of them and sending them into the ground.

Kenma’s legs are jelly when he’s set back down. He realizes that his mysterious saviour has his bag slung over his other shoulder, and he hands it back to him.

Chatter explodes around him. 

“It’s him!”

“It’s Spiderman! He saved the day again!” 

A hand is placed on his shoulder. “You okay, boy?” the gruff bystander asks.

Kenma glances at him, then looks away, still shaken. “Yes. Thank you for your help,” he says.

He turns back to the two thieves, who are tied up with the same sticky webs that saved Kenma. They’re still groaning from the impact of getting kicked.

“That could’ve been super dangerous!” The alleged Spiderman is scolding them. “You guys are like, suuper big and fast, so you can definitely go do other things, stuff other than robbing people!” 

Oh.

The pieces fall into place.

“Ah! And—” Spiderman whirls around to look at Kenma. “Are you okay? Sorry for dragging you so forcefully! I didn’t want you to get hit.”

“Thanks for your help,” Kenma says quietly, his voice almost drowned out by the murmur of the crowd. From what he can tell, the police are already on their way here, but there’s too many people around, and it’s too loud and suffocating and he feels uncomfortable. 

He ducks out of everyone’s view and starts to heads home quietly, his knees and palms stinging. As he sneaks away, he glances over his shoulder, just in time to see Spiderman shoot a web onto a tall building, and swing to his escape in the distance.

* * *

**From: shouyou**  
**Time: 201X/05/09, 10:04**

_Kenma i heard you almost got mugged yesterday!!!! Are you okay!! Be more careful!!!_

**From: kenma**  
**Time: 201X/05/09, 10:37**

_i’m fine… i got lucky and someone helped me out._

**From: shouyou**  
**Time: 201X/05/09, 10:39**

_Oh, ok!!!! In any case dont go getting hurt or else we cant have a rematch!!_

**From: kenma**  
**Time: 201X/05/09, 11:03**

_don’t worry, i won’t._

* * *

There’s an endless supply of YouTube videos featuring the amazing Spiderman. He mostly concerns himself with petty crime, Kenma notes, cooperating with officers nicely and never using excessive force. He has almost ridiculous jumping skill and dexterity, swinging from building to building like some modern Tarzan.

The videos of him border on implausible; stopping a truck from crashing in a building with his own two hands. Going up against three bank robbers and tying them up before the police got there. Leaving a stolen bike in the open with a hastily scrawled note, _Someone's stolen bike!! (DON'T TAKE unless it's yours!) _

“Hm? What’s up, Kenma, trying to come up with new set ideas?” Yamamoto teases, glancing over his shoulder.

Kenma makes a stink face at him. “Go away, Tora.”

Yaku claps him on the back, throwing him forward a bit. His Aion towel smacks him in the face. “Hey, that’s the guy that saved Kenma the other day, right? When he got mugged? Maybe he just wants to find out more about his saviour!”

“What? Kenma-san got mugged?!” Lev yells from the other side of the room.

As usual, there’s a commotion stirring in the boys’ locker room. It’s Kai, Kenma’s current favourite person, who sits beside him calmly, already changed into his school uniform.

“Is there something bothering you, Kenma?” he asks. 

Kenma licks his lips. “Something like that,” he says.

He has another run-in with Spiderman the next day, but this time he completely ignores him. He whizzes past Kenma, and Kenma feels his hair whip his face from the force of his swing.

By the time he’s turned around, he’s already far, far away. 

“You have that look in your eyes, like there’s a part in a game you’re stuck in and you want to beat it no matter what,” Kuroo notes beside him, back from his sick day.

“Mhmm, but using magic is cheating,” Kenma says, still staring off into the distance.

Kuroo doesn’t press, and Kenma doesn’t answer. He just stares at him with that knowing look in his eye. It irks Kenma for some reason.

When Kenma gets home, he drops his bag on his room’s floor. His gaming console lies inside the bag, forgotten. Instead, he heads to the home office and starts dragging books off of their bookshelf. There’s magic and excitement thrumming through his veins.

He licks his lips as he flips to the page he’s looking for. His fingers glow.

* * *

**From: kenma**  
**Time: 201X/05/10, 17:23**

_are you free on saturday? i’ll be in miyagi for part of the day since i have some errands to run._

**From: shouyou**  
**Time: 201X/05/10, 17:31**

_Whoa youre visiting?!! Yeah im free i was just gonna practice vullyball but if youre coming ill meet up with u instead!!_

**From: kenma**  
**Time: 201X/05/10, 17:33**

_sounds good. meet me at the station at 12:02?_

**From: shouyou**  
**Time: 201X/05/10, 17:33**

_Yep you got it!!!!_

* * *

Kenma groans as he steps off the train, the weight of the commute bearing down on him. He’d played so much Smash Ultimate that his head was spinning and his thumbs were hurting.

This was stupid, he notes to himself, travelling this far on the pretense of digging up a secret he wasn’t even sure was true. He feels tired and he hasn’t even gone to find the dittany he promised his mom was here in Miyagi. He was lucky that his first searching spell had given him a location in Miyagi, close to the mountain where he knew Hinata biked past everyday. He had been expecting to make up a lie. 

His mom had been reluctant to let him go and skip class, but dittany was preciously low in their storage and Kenma never makes mistakes on his searching spells. 

The train isn’t as full because it’s a Saturday on a train going away from Tokyo, and his eyes are quickly drawn to bright orange hair bobbing up and down in the middle of the crowd.

Shouyou’s smile is as bright as the sun, and Kenma notices a compress that’s stuck to his cheek. He’s wearing a bright yellow shirt with Gudetama on it, and Kenma thinks it only serves to make him stand out from the crowd even more. Compared to him, Kenma’s presence seems to shrink in on itself. He’s waving at him even as he runs over.

He bundles Kenma in a hug, surprising him. Kenma can’t help but stiffen slightly as his arms wrap around him. “Kenma! It’s nice to see you!”

“Likewise,” Kenma says, a few decibels quieter.

Shouyou doesn’t seem to have trouble hearing him, through. “Have you eaten lunch yet? I’m starving!”

Kenma tells him no, so Shouyou brings them to a local store to grab some meat buns. He’s brought his bike along, but he wheels it beside them the entire walk through. 

They take a temporary respite when Shouyou emerges from the store with a bunch of meat buns in arm, handing some over to Kenma. They sit outside the store, eating their meat buns. Kenma feels the warm May midday sun kiss his skin while Shouyou rambles about what him and his teammates have been up to. Kenma is content to listen as he eats.

Kenma mentions that he’s here to pick some plants for his mom. When he says which mountain it’s at, Shouyou’s eyes light up.

“That’s on the way of my daily commute!” he says. “I can pedal us over if you want. It takes awhile by foot.”

Kenma blinks. “Are you sure?” Sure, Shouyou may take that route everyday, but Kenma is a whole other person’s weight he’ll have to compensate for. Plus, he’s not sure if it violates traffic laws here.

“Yeah, don’t worry about it!” And then Shouyou’s hopped onto his bike, eyes on Kenma expectantly.

Kenma reluctantly stands up, brushing his pants off. “If you insist,” he says.

Shouyou was right about not having to worry about him. The moment Kenma sits down on the rear end of the bike, Shouyou starts pedaling and they _fly_. 

Kenma’s weight does not seem to hinder Shouyou at all. The scenery around them starts blurring and Kenma blanches and squeezes onto the metal frame that he’s positioned on, feeling the wind cut at his face, his hair, his eyes. 

They get to where Kenma has directed him way too fast. When he gets off the bike, he realizes his legs are shaking a bit, and Shouyou has to steady him, laughing sheepishly and giving apologies. Kenma would tell him it’s okay except it takes him a few minutes to stand up on his own and he’s concentrating hard on that.

“So what are you looking for again?” Shouyou asks once Kenma has managed to get on proper footing.

“It’s a plant.” Kenma says. “Dittany,” he adds. He’s not counting on Shouyou to know it, and predictably, he doesn’t. He gives a short description to Shouyou on what it looks like, and then they both split up.

Dittany was supposed to grow only on Crete or in the mountains of Greece. It was endangered and already hard to find, but a cornerstone in creating many healing potions or a key component in healing spells. His searching spell had directed him to a mountain in Miyagi with a precision non-witches couldn’t hope to replicate.

Soon enough, Shouyou spots it, and calls Kenma over to verify. He thinks that Shouyou has a good eye, because he’s identified it correctly. Growing in small spurts, and albeit not a lot, but it was dittany. 

From his bag he pulls out a small pot, already filled with magic-enhanced soil. Feigning a sense of urgency, he glances in the other direction. 

Shouyou’s instincts are ridiculously good, so he also glances in the direction of Kenma’s gaze, scrutinising the horizon. When he sees nothing, he turns his head back around.

It’s in that short timeframe where Shouyou is looking away that Kenma casts a quick spell that loosens the roots of a few shoots and pats it down in his pot neatly.

“Whoa, you did that so fast! Did you have a shovel?”

“In my bag,” Kenma lies, zipping his bag up. He keeps the potted plant in his hands though. He glances at the sky. It’s probably still early afternoon, and he has to take the later train since that’s the only time his dad can pick him up from the station, so he has time to kill.

Shouyou, upon hearing this, suggests they go to his house. This statement catches Kenma off-guard and he can’t even mask the look of surprise on his face. He’d been expecting an invite to a convenience store or some sort of café.

“Uhh! If you want to, that is,” Shouyou quickly backtracks, seeing the look on Kenma’s face.

“No, it’s fine by me,” Kenma amends. “It just surprised me is all.” He’s not sure why he’s agreeing so easily to go over to someone else’s house, particularly someone who he hasn’t even known all that long. It had taken him years to even step foot in Kuroo’s house. But something about Shouyou makes him warm and relaxed. He trusts him, he realizes.

“Be careful with the plant,” he tells Shouyou, setting it in the little basket at the front.

Shouyou gives him a thumbs-up. “Yeah, no worries!”

Shouyou only goes marginally slower out of concern for the plant, but Kenma is more concerned for himself. When they finally arrive and get off the bike, Kenma shakily walks over to pick his plant up from the bike basket. With difficulty. He’s pretty sure his soul has left him.

Shouyou opens the door and announces he’s home.

“There’s actually no one home, though,” Shouyou says as Kenma mumbles his apologies for his intrusion and sets his shoes aside. “Mom and dad are out and Natsu is at the daycare.” Surprisingly, Shouyou’s house is more traditionally styled, with sliding doors and tatami mats.

Shouyou has a volleyball net set up in his backyard, and with a lot of coaxing he makes Kenma set for him for awhile. It’s interesting, setting for Shouyou, because his reflexes are quick and he moves faster than anyone Kenma’s ever played with. Eventually, though, Kenma calls it quits because he has a cramp forming in his side and he’s not even wearing his gym clothes. 

They switch to sitting on cushions in his living room. Shouyou has decided to be a good host now, and he covers the coffee table in refreshments and snacks that Kenma feels too full to eat. He has graciously given him a glass of water, so he drinks that instead. He tries turning on the television, but Kenma has already seen the news and he doesn't really like that new politician on the screen with the unnaturally shiny teeth.

"Yeah, that Gokatsu guy kinda creeps me out," Shouyou agrees, shutting it off.

Kenma is quiet for a bit, sipping water and evening out his breath. Shouyou’s house smells of wood, reminds him of an austere, domestic house in a rural neighbourhood. Then again, that was pretty much what it was. He half-expected to see a samurai sword hanging off the wall.

“Shouyou, have you heard of this Spiderman guy?” Kenma asks him.

Shouyou jerks. “Ah! Like, sometimes! I mean, yeah! He’s like, this zippy guy who flies all around Japan, fighting bad guys. There’s tons of videos of him on YouTube! Oh and he saved you that one time you almost got mugged, right?”

“Yeah,” Kenma says.

There’s a strange sense of tension in the air, and Shouyou looks almost apprehensive. Kenma can see everything in perfect clarity, down to the stray strand of hair that falls between his eyes and the sweat trickling behind his ear.

“You’re Spiderman, aren’t you?”

“What!!!” Shouyou jumps, flinging his arms in front of his body. “Yeah—I mean no! No way! I’m definitely not Spiderman! Why would you think that?!”

“Your voice that day,” Kenma deadpans. “Your suit doesn’t disguise that. And the height. On all the YouTube videos, all your movements are exactly the same as they are in game. And… ” he holds up his bag. “Your hair was stuck to my school bag that day even though I didn't bring it to Karasuno.”

For each point that Kenma brings up, Shouyou staggers as if he’s being physically attacked, but that last point was really the cincher that sunk him. “But I thought I was being super stealthy about it! I mean, no one on Karasuno has noticed! Not even Kageyama!”

_Kageyama isn’t the most observant person outside of volleyball,_ Kenma doesn’t say, but he gets a sense of satisfaction anyway. His original plan was to find hard evidence that he was Spiderman, like a stray web, so that it was irrefutable. But this was much easier.

“And plus!” Shouyou surprises him by grabbing his wrists, one in each hand. Kenma has a fleeting thought that his hands feel soft. “You shouldn’t know this! You’re going to get in trouble!”

That’s the first thing that catches Kenma off guard. He blinks. “What do you mean?”

“Y’know, like some people are getting grudges against me! If they find out who I am, or they know that you know me, they might try and target you!” Shouyou lets go of his wrists and starts flailing his arms around, really trying to hammer his point home.

The smug feeling disappears. “Shouyou, are there really people trying to hurt you?” Kenma asks.

Shouyou scratches the back of his head. “Well, kind of? Not really, but this once when I was swinging around someone had like a gun and he started shooting at me, it was pretty scary so I had to get away quickly. It was a good thing it was me! Imagine what would have happened if that was you!”

The urgency in Shouyou’s tone is not lost on Kenma. He reaches forward, and cups Shouyou’s face, not realizing the intimacy of the action just yet. His thumb brushes over the compress on his cheek. He furrows his brow. “Show me your suit,” he says. “It’s not bulletproof or anything?”

Shouyou shakes his head as he leads him upstairs, into his room. “Nah, it’s just a disguise I scraped together. From old clothes and stuff, y’know? The web stuff was a lot harder though.” He opens the door, revealing a truly messy room with clothes, books, kneepads, strewn everywhere. “I got the idea from Natsu’s sticky sticky bibs!”

Kenma gingerly steps through the mess on the floor, trying his best to keep to the floorboards, while Shouyou digs through his closet and pulls out the familiar ensemble. It’s a bit raggedy—a backwards Uniglow hoodie sewn shut, holes cut for eyes, a blue jumpsuit underneath, wrist-strapped web shooters, and red kneepads. There’s a spider on the front of the red hoodie. 

Kenma holds it up. “Yeah, there’s no way this could stop a bullet or a knife,” he says. “I’m surprised, though, I thought it would be a crow instead of a spider.”

Shouyou waves his hand. “No way! Then everyone in Karasuno would know.”

_So _ that’s _the deciding factor?_ Kenma thinks to himself.

“I’ll fix up your suit,” Kenma says. He’s already running spells through his head. It has to be made of a durable fabric, but it has to be breathable, moldable, flexible. He can make a better Spiderman motif. He can even make the web shooters operate smoother, add some extra features to the suit…

“Hellooo? Kenma!” Shouyou is waving his hand in front of his face. “I appreciate the help and all, but I didn’t tell people for a reason!”

“You should be more worried about yourself than me,” Kenma says, bending over Shouyou’s disguise. 

His fingers glow, and the suit begins to glitter with the same colour. Stitching flies across it, over and over, making it more durable. The layers meld together. A new pattern—which, while unnecessary, Kenma deems cool—weaves itself across the suit. The holes in the eyes are replaced by white reflectors.

Kenma stands up and looks over his shoulder, a small smirk pulling at his face. “You see, I’m a witch.”

* * *

“You _told him?!”_

“Chill out, Kuro, it’s not that big of a deal,” Kenma mumbles, pressing his face deeper into the pillow. He’s seriously considering copying what Kuroo does when he sleeps by stuffing two pillows against his ears to drown him out.

“Uh huh, yeah, didn’t you say it was a big deal when you told me? And that was after six years of knowing me, too. How long have you known chibi-chan? What if he was a witch hunter?”

Kenma gives up tuning Kuroo out and flops on his back. He makes eye contact with his current aggressor. “I was like, ninety percent sure he wasn’t. Plus, I got him to admit that he was Spiderman. It’s not fair to wheedle out his secrets and keep my own.”

Kuroo crosses his arms and sighs. “I mean, I guess you lucked out and all, but that’s still freaking dangerous.” He sits down on the bed, and Kenma feels it dip towards him. His eyes trace the hard line of Kuroo’s shoulders, sturdy and broadened by years of volleyball practice. He pauses for a moment. “What was chibi-chan’s reaction?”

Kenma flicks his eyes to the ceiling. “Well, he had that shocked look on his face. Then he said no way, then he asked me a bunch of questions about being a witch. Like where we were from and stuff about our magic and everything.”

Kenma was descended from a long, long line of witches. Their family, once full of prestige, had fallen from grace and gone into hiding ever since the witch trials that overtook the world. Some remained etched in history, such as the Salem Witch Trials, but some had disappeared from the world, to be forgotten forever; magical beings had simply fallen out of use as the world around them industrialized and new technology was developed. Magic, while being second nature to him, was dangerous. And those who had originated the witch hunts had merged into their own secret society, and now the mercenaries they hired were commonly known as witch hunters. Or Red Cloaks.

Kenma’s mother had passed on her magical heritage to him, her knowledge of spells, and her tactical ability, but for the most part she stayed as an office worker and encouraged Kenma to live his life as a normal person. It was too dangerous, she had told him, to live as a witch in this era. Witches were becoming dangerously close to extinction. Witch hunters were always tracking them down and eliminating them, though it was difficult to ascertain how many witches in Japan there were left.

Kuroo wasn’t a witch, nor was he descended from one, but he was the only person other than Kenma’s family who knew of his heritage. Until Shouyou, of course.

“I told him I was a transmutation-focused witch,” Kenma continues, “but I had a few simple utility and healing spells as well. And that I never used them during any volleyball matches. He told me that it was a shame I had to hide my powers when they were so cool.”

“And? Did you find out why chibi-chan suddenly had heightened physical abilities and senses?”

“He was bit by a charmed acromantula,” Kenma says. “It didn’t kill him, but all the magic flooded out of the spider and into him. And it grew giant, of course, so Shouyou had to fight him and run away. He said it happened a few weeks after the school year had started.”

Of course, there was something that wasn’t right about that story. No witch would be careless enough to let a witch-bred species run around, much less a charmed version of it that gave the user enhanced physical abilities and other extrasensory powers; most dangerously a physical constitution that allowed an individual to swing across Japan within a day. Best case scenario, there was one very airheaded witch somewhere in Japan. Worst case scenario, that spider was bred by witch hunters for the express purpose of enhancing themselves to carry out their missions.

“It’s not like it makes them invincible, though,” Kenma says. “Shouyou always gets super banged up, and his parents chalk it up to volleyball practice. But he keeps at it, because he’s worried about finding more magical creatures that could kill people, and he has the power to stop crimes from happening.” A petulant tone edges in his voice, and Kuroo side-eyes him. “C’mon Kuroo, I couldn’t just leave him be.”

Kuroo gives Kenma a _look_. “What did you say to him?”

Kenma turns on his side, facing away from Kuroo. “I said I was going to help him level up, of course.”

* * *

Working with Shouyou falls into a familiar routine. While the distance isn’t ideal, Shouyou’s able to bring himself from Miyagi to Tokyo in about half an hour, and most of the crimes that he stops end up being in the more populated side of Tokyo anyway.

Kenma, for his part, brushes up on his healing spells, and takes care to let the dittany plant grow in abundance. Shouyou shows up at his house far too often, bruised and bloody, and Kenma always ushers him in quietly, leads him to his room.

There, perched on his bed, Kenma carefully casts spell after spell, mending his bruised ribs, the scrapes on his side, and the bruises that bloom across his torso from the impact force of bullets. Shouyou usually makes some noise of relief, the stress evaporating from his shoulders, and slumps against Kenma. 

Occasionally, he’d be overcome by a whim and add more features to his suit. A stealth mode that lets him blend into his surroundings. A night vision mode and x-ray mode. Upgraded web-shooters. A utility belt. Most importantly, a parachute.

Sometimes, Shouyou brings a torn piece of clothing, or a few strands of hair, and Kenma casts a few magic detection spells. They all turn up negative, which comforts him. No matter what magical entity created that acromantula, it seemed that they hadn’t picked up on Shouyou’s trail. Yet.

Spiderman, on the other hand, was rapidly gaining traction among the people of Japan. While he didn’t go without a few critics, who insinuated that he only caused more disturbances to the peace, he was generally well-liked and treated as a mascot of sorts. He played nice with police, and was polite to children and the elderly. His YouTube presence was growing.

One day, when Shouyou is over again, Kenma asks him, “Doesn’t it hurt? Why do you keep throwing yourself out there?”

Today, the suit has been peeled off of him, and he’s dressed in one of Kenma’s black t-shirts; his own drenched in sweat and blood. It fits on his frame surprisingly well, like a second coat of feathers. The Nekoma logo looks a little out of place on him though. 

Shouyou scratches the back of his head. He’s quiet for a moment, contemplating Kenma’s question. 

“When I was little, my gramps was killed,” he says. “I don’t know if it was a magical creature or just a regular robber, but I remember my mom was crying a lot. She cried almost everyday after he died. And I thought that I wanted to be bigger and stronger so I could protect everyone and they wouldn’t be sad anymore.” He laughs, then, leaning his weight back on his arms. “I didn’t end up getting bigger though!”

He cocks his head to one side, leaning toward a shoulder. There’s a burning intensity in his brown eyes that locks Kenma in place, brings chills all over his body. Kenma sees fire and phoenixes in his eyes. “But I was lucky enough to get bit by that spider and survive, so what’s to say I can’t still do it?”

He breaks into a smile, his cheeks flushing pink.

Kenma finishes the last of his spells and twists his fingers together.

Shouyou is always so interesting.

* * *

**From: shouyou  
** **Time: 201X/05/26, 17:53**

_Kenma i’m in tokyo_

**From: shouyou  
** **Time: 201X/05/26, 17:54**

_Iwas trying to stop this bad guy but for some reason he knew i was coming and he_

**From: shouyou  
** **Time: 201X/05/26, 17:54**

_He summoned thsi really big spider likethe one that bit me befor and i beat it but this time the spider bit me and my head isreally spinny_

**From: kenma  
** **Time: 201X/05/26, 18:11**

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_shouyou where are you_

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****

**From: kenma  
** **Time: 201X/05/26, 18:13**

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_shouyou???????_

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* * *

Kenma’s feet dig into the hard gravel, and for once in his life he curses the volleyball club for going on for so long. He had seen Shouyou’s text fifteen minutes too late. 

His lungs burn against the cool air of the Tokyo midsummer night and his brain unhelpfully supplies facts about acromantula venom and the effects on the human body.

_In small doses… dizziness, nausea, fever, cold sweat. In large doses… paralysis, seizures, total shutdown of the nervous system and death. _

He swallows hard and rounds a corner into an alley, but Shouyou is nowhere to be found. Well, that was to be expected. Tokyo was large, after all.

_Left untreated for long periods of time, it can lead to permanent neural or muscle damage._

He closes his eyes and presses his hand against the wall, doubling over. The burning in his lungs was dragging him down to earth but was also making it harder to think clearly. He was getting nowhere by running around like a headless chicken. Right now, all he could think of was Shouyou, as bright as the sun, running around with a volleyball in hand. Looking at his tosses like they were the best present in the world. Jumping around the court like a reckless baby crow.

He couldn’t let that happen to him.

His mind sharpens with stunning clarity. He pulls his gym bag from his shoulder and digs through it until he pulls out the shirt Shouyou had worn not too long ago. Mumbling _please please please please please _ under his breath he scrutinises it until he finds a strand of orange hair stuck to the back of it.

He peels it off the fabric of the shirt, and his hands are shaking when he pulls out a piece of chalk and draws a scrying circle on the ground. He puts Shouyou’s hair in the middle, and murmurs incantations under his breath.

The chalk lines begin to glow blue, and Shouyou’s hair bursts into blue flames. When the flame extinguishes, his coordinates are marked into the ground with burn marks.

Kenma memorizes it, then smudges his circle and begins running again.

He’s lucky, because Shouyou’s relatively close, and he opts to take the back alleys so people don’t give him weird looks. His stamina is close to giving out, but the adrenaline is giving him a boost. He has to stop after ten minutes because his heart is pounding so fast he feels dizzy. He can hear himself wheezing, doubled over.

He thinks he’s within five hundred feet, so he straightens up and concentrates on Shouyou's coordinates. He casts a teleportation spell, and after a few minutes, the ground disappears under him in a whirl.

He hits the pavement on his stomach and elbows, and he hisses at the pain. Pushing the hair out of his eyes, he straightens himself and sees Shouyou a few metres to his right, crumpled against the wall. 

His blood runs cold when he sees the giant husk of an acromantula in front of him, but it’s dead, and Shouyou’s not, so he runs over to him. He’s still in the Spiderman suit, but the face mask has been pulled off and is crumpled in his hand.

Kenma thinks that he’s unconscious initially, but when his shoes crunch against the gravel, his eyes flutter open. He can see the sheen of sweat that covers him, and, most importantly, the two large puncture marks on his forearm that are oozing green.

“Kenma,” Shouyou says, looking happy despite the current circumstances. “You came.” And with way too much strength for someone who’s supposed to be on his deathbed, he drags Kenma into a tightening hug.

His tongue feels like sandpaper in his mouth, but he answers anyway. “Yeah.”

Still crushed against Shouyou’s shoulder, Kenma presses his hand against his forehead. It's a little warm, but not feverish yet. He doesn’t have an antidote on him, and he’s already casted two major spells today. The exhaustion was catching up on him. But there was still one thing he could do.

His mom was going to kill him. 

Despite wanting to stay in his solid grip forever, he worms out of Shouyou’s hug and fumbles through his bag, pulling out a small, clear vial. It’s only the length of his pinky finger, and the ornate glass patterning makes it heavy in his hand. Phoenix tears.

He unplugs the stopper and allows a few drops to fall on Shouyou’s arm, where the puncture marks are. The effects are instantaneous. The wounds close, and the venom on his arm evaporates in a wisp of green smoke. Shouyou groans softly.

It would be cheaper if he poured liquid gold on Shouyou’s arm, he thinks dryly.

Kenma caps his vial of phoenix tears and puts it back in his bag. With a towel, he wipes the sweat off Shouyou’s face and neck, and starts checking him for other injuries.

“Kenma,” Shouyou mumbles. When Kenma doesn’t answer, he repeats himself. “Kenma. That guy was bad news.” His fingers twist together. “You... you should stop helping me.”

Ribs bruised, scrapes and cuts, but nothing major other than the bite. It’s only then that Shouyou’s words register. “What?”

Shouyou looks uncomfortable. “He asked me where I got that magic suit. And that I should leave him alone before something bad happens. I think he knew I wasn’t a witch, but he was using magic.”

Kenma’s fingers still around Shouyou’s bicep. “Did he say anything else?” he asks, tension pricking the hairs in his body.

Shouyou’s voice is uncharacteristically low when he says, “He called himself a witch hunter.”

**Author's Note:**

> this was supposed to be a oneshot, but it got a bit too long so i split it up lol
> 
> as always, any comments and kudos are highly appreciated! thank you for reading!


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